


Tender Instincts & Panicked Measures

by Thementalistlover2013



Series: How To Whump Tony Stark (AKA: Anything & Everything Tony) [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bucky calls Tony ma, Clint just wants a family, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Meddling Clint, Nervous Tony, Panic, Parent Tony Stark, Shy Tony - Freeform, Stony - Freeform, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Mom Tony, Team as Family, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Tony becomes team mom, Tony-centric, coming together, kind of, team dad steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:52:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thementalistlover2013/pseuds/Thementalistlover2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark: Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist, Team Mom?</p><p>It wasn't like Tony had set out to mother the Avengers.</p><p>No, it wasn't like that at all, but it had surely ended in that fashion. Someway, somehow, his life had turned from depressive workaholic, alcoholic, everything-that-was-especially-harmful-holic to packing paper brown bag lunches and personally sending out clothes to the cleaners.</p><p>Personally - he hadn't even sent his own laundry out pre-Avengers.</p><p>He had just become the proud owner of five superheroes; they hadn't even come with care kits or manuals or blueprints.</p><p>Tony couldn't breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello people, I'm back. Writer's block had taken a hold of me for while there. Even so, I will not succumb. This is my revolt. 
> 
> In any case that you'd like to offer some inspiration (scenes you'd like to see, specific moments between characters, etc.), I'd be greatly appreciative. I'm planning on delving into Age of Ultron/Civil War, but I'm not completely sure what you'd like to see as of now. I've written around four chapters, so updates should be regular enough for a while. Either way, your comments would be super helpful! Thank you.

~*~

It wasn't like Tony had _set out_ to mother the Avengers.

No, it _wasn't_ like that at all, but it had surely ended in that fashion. Someway, _somehow_ , his life had turned from depressive workaholic, alcoholic, everything-that-was- _especially_ -harmful-holic to packing paper brown bag lunches and personally sending out clothes to the cleaners.

 _Personally_ \- he hadn't even sent his own laundry out pre-Avengers.

 _But_ , it wasn't like Tony had set out to mother the Avengers. They had simply gotten out of hand, all of them _very_ well established in the Stark-turned-Avengers tower (and if the new title wasn't the physical embodiment of his entire life at the moment, he wasn't really sure if anything else would suffice; it was reminiscent of a slightly more dangerous version of Kate Plus Eight). Living with each other, saving each others lives, practically sticking to one another ( _physically_ sticking together once, it was a _long_ , sweaty night in Istanbul beneath a caved building). Tony wouldn't ignore the feelings he'd started to develop, all of them maternal and family-centric, but he wouldn't focus on them either, because _holy shit._

It was hard to deny the fact that all of the variables had managed to add up, like the gods ( _or_ Fury, there wasn't really a difference sometimes) had purposely thrown them all into a blender (Tony imagined a godly pinky dipping lazily into the top of the concoction, disappearing behind a massive beard as whatever force that had decided to toss them together deemed the mixture _edible enough_ ). The team was bonded in a way that was more redolent of a big, dysfunctional family than what they were on paper - coworkers.

Clint had only laughed at the _C word_ , the group of them sitting patiently as rescue crews made their way through the transcontinental Istanbul. Clint had divided the humid air with heavy arms, hands curved around Tony's shoulders as he smacked his lips (sloppy, _always_ sloppy with Clint - the fact that Tony could differentiate the lips of his coworkers _should've_ been worrisome; at that time, the only thing he could worry about was the way the building they were trapped under had reminded him of Afghanistan) to the brunette's cheek.

"Must be a family business then, 'cause I don't know any _coworkers"_ Clint shifted, guiding Tony's unmasked head onto his shoulder with gentle, calloused fingers; despite the heat surrounding them, Clint had strived to take advantage of Tony's weary state. "who hold each other like this."

Tony didn't have the heart (or energy, for that matter, they'd needed a lot of aerial support _before_ the building had fallen atop them.) to shove him off, letting his exhaustion drown out the not-so-little voice in his head that had been screaming at him.

Tony could only tell himself that even if the rubble around him shifted into his least favorite cave when he'd drifted off, Clint could keep him grounded; there _definitely_ hadn't been an overzealous archer in Afghanistan whose main mission was to cling - it would've been a bit more pleasant that way.

There hadn't ever been anyone who had wanted to cling to Tony for the sake of clinging - in the moment that Tony had realized _that_ , his entire life had already evolved.

**Tony Stark: Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist, _Team Mom?_**

　

　

Fury, the fucking _bastard_ , had started all of it.

Tony had been slaving over prototypes in the lab when Jarvis had notified him of the guests awaiting him in the lobby. Guests of which Tony had _not_ expected. Tony didn't get guests. Guests didn't _get_ Tony. Therefore, Tony did _not_ expect nor want guests.

He was a sleep deprived, blubbering idiot by the time he had managed to compute what exactly Jarvis had said.

He _hadn't_ been the one to invite them. Fury and his _sneaky sneaky spy shit_ had caused it. Fury had told the team that Tony had spaces ready and furnished (which he admittedly _did_ , but it was _not_ for the team, at least, it hadn't been. R&D had been the ones needing extra room - Tony wasn't stupid or gullible, building floors for strangers in the hopes that they'd move in?

He wasn't in a fucking Disney movie, this was reality).

A week later, Tony had found a team full of superheroes, bags slung over their shoulders, smiling brightly and conversing (they'd connected over at SHIELD after the Battle of Manhattan, since none of them had had a place to go). Tony had felt a sudden feeling of misplacement in his own home as he descended onto the ground floor of the tower, watching the group through the CCTV that Jarvis had projected in front of him. They looked so comfortable and at ease. _Bruce_ had even smiled a few times, muttering words that Tony couldn't hear to the group. Laughter erupted on the hologram just as the elevator doors opened.

All at once, Tony was thrown into the same projection he'd been viewing. The laughter had quieted down as the elevator _dinged_ his arrival, but he could still see the friendliness between them. It rivaled the nervous posture he was no doubt failing to conceal; he hadn't prepped himself for this. Instead of his regular pressed suit and and dress shoes, he was dressed in baggy (and ripped, Tony noticed with a grim expression) black jeans. He'd haphazardly thrown on the grey Henley that had been crumpled into one of the lab couches rather than bare his chest to the world (which might've been a better option, considering the stench of must rolling off of the fabric in waves). His dark dress socks were the only pieces of clothing remotely appropriate; _if only_ he'd remembered shoes.

Tony ran a hand down his face, avoiding their eyes.

"Mr. Stark?" Steve murmured, shifting the duffle bag on his shoulder; they'd become friendly enough after their little spat on the helicarrier, the shwarma break had worked wonders; nonetheless, he was still 'Mr. Stark'.

It was far too formal, but he had bigger things to deal with at the moment.

Tony glanced up for a moment, noting the captain's simple clothing, his earnest face, the polite 'Mr. Stark' and _everything_ in between; so _this_ was how Tony was going to die? He'd had a running bet on Cirrhosis before this. "Is it a bad time? Fury told us to come here-"

Thor lifted his bag, undoubtedly ready to get settled somewhere; gods know the guy needed _someplace_ to call home on the unfamiliar planet (SHIELD wasn't a fit home for _anybody_ , and the only people exempt were Fury, Agent and Maria - _fucking suits_ ).

Tony threw up his hands, muttering out quietly, "Of _course_ he did."

Natasha and Clint shared a look. Meanwhile, Bruce shook his head knowingly.

"Tony?" Banner stepped forwards, ratty suit case dangling from a strong, worn hand; he looked anxious, so much more than he had before, and Tony felt _horrible_ about it. "Are _you_ okay with this? I should've known that Fury would pull something-"

Bruce looked angry at the notion of Fury invading Tony's personal space, and the petite brunette felt something bloom in his chest.

It's what drove home the notion of the Avengers sharing a _home_.

"No." Tony waved his hands, somewhat frantic. He didn't _want_ them to leave, or feel like they were obligated to; he didn't know them, but together, they knew each other - it took a special kind of crazy to defend the world like they had in Manhattan, and he didn't want to break that bond (even if he was antisocial and _didn't_ need friends; it just didn't help that the nightmares had gotten worse and- no, _no_ portal thoughts). His hands were twisting, oil smearing throughout his palms. These were the only people who had the slightest chance of understanding him.

It was almost as if Tony had decided that he'd actually wanted to change his friend count within the last few moments (jumping from Pepper and Rhodey to an entire live-in team of friends might've been an overwhelming overkill in hindsight - but _hindsight_ was meant for losers who couldn't handle the conditions previous decisions had accumulated; Tony would never regret himself, no matter the fuckup), which was revolutionary for him.

Tony felt panic and adrenaline nipping at his toes, working its way up into his core; he certainly wasn't feeling as sleep deprived anymore. But being unstable or vacant or even _inconsiderate_ (genius wasn't always a good thing, his brain zipped through issues, but that didn't mean he couldn't overlook something) would lead him nowhere - which, hindsight, again, was really where he had been before the Avengers had been shoved artfully in his direction.

It was simply too much, too soon; an irrepressible force had him wired, and Tony could feel his pulse elevating with every silent second that ticked by.

Bad, bad, _bad_. Relax. "No, forget it. It's... _good_. We're good. Mi casa su casa, si?"

Tony finally looked up, meeting each and every face. Steve, Thor, Natasha, Clint, Bruce.

People that he would unknowingly associate with family soon enough.

He nodded, sending them his most reassuring smile (which wasn't worth much at this point, he could barely keep himself together) before gesticulating towards the elevator.

Tony stopped, mid thought, a frown on his face. Clint ran straight into his back, jostling him a bit; the archer righted him with two meaty palms on his shoulder and a well placed brush of the hand that nearly knocked Tony over.

"Look, you're going to have to crash in my living room for tonight, I can't get ahold of my contractors to work out plans this late in the day-"

"'S cool Stark, lets just _go_. I can't wait to see the view from the _fucking penthouse_."

Clint was bounding around Tony and forwards before he had even finished his sentence; the petite brunette made a mental note for the guys affinity towards heights. Thor, too, was bouncing on the balls of his feet since Clint had mentioned the penthouse - he'd want one of the higher floors too.

Tony's eyes bounced to the three others, who were as calm as ever, even if the worry lines in Bruce's face had only remotely smoothed over. The genius gestured the remaining team towards the lift, corralling his charges into the too small (the lift was _huge_ by average standards - it just didn't work for them, Tony made a note) space before Jarvis silently sent them to the top floor.

As the lift whirled upwards, Tony couldn't help the visual in his head; the Avengers on the highest building in New York, watching over the same city that had been in ruins-

 _He_ was feeling _sentimental_ ; feeling something other than fear, stress, exhaustion or negativity since he'd been in the tower by himself (SHIELD had stolen Bruce back after two days, and he had gone willingly, something about Betty and _blah, blah_ \- Tony had congratulated him on chasing the girl despite his own hurt, now he was wondering if he should get Bruce a floor designed for two; or _three_ , what about the Hulk?).

He was going to have to change his entire home, which had literally been his safe haven for as long as he could remember; his life was on the mend, but necessary change was in order - for Tony, change was more than difficult.

Self preservation wasn't one of his strong suits.

Tony gripped onto the wall of the lift unsteadily, feeling a bit nauseous as they climbed the innards of the building. There was _so_ much to work out. Too many people near him. They were practically flush against the lift or each other, especially with the bulk of the two tallest blondes. He'd gone from recluse to family man in less than ten minutes; that _had_ to be a record, yeah?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. _Pentfuck_. Five people. Five super humans. In his tower, with him. Cohabitation. Tony wasn't really good at _'co'_ anything.

Even so, there was no taking the offer back now, he had just become the proud owner of five superheroes; they hadn't even come with care kits or manuals or blueprints. Tony couldn't breathe.

The lift doors opened, announcing their arrival and the end of Tony with one quick, enthusiastic _ding_.

~*~

 


	2. Moving Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He slumped over the counter, sliding off of the stool pitifully before grabbing the appropriate amount of dishes. He went to go set the table that Thor had to have assembled wrong (there was a stray leg left off to the side, which was surely a necessity), hoping that it would last a meal before he had to fix it.
> 
> Taking care of real, breathing humans was hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to see the reaction from all of you towards this story! I appreciate your time and kind words (especially your inspiration and guidance on where you'd like the story to go - I will attempt to satisfy you all). This chapter is longer than the first, and it delves further into Tony's anxiety over social situations (especially on his turf) and such. Steve and Tony will be together very soon as this fic is going to jump time a bit. Anyway, onto the story!

~*~

Tony had constructed the tower himself - sleek and smooth, reflective and convex, stark and absolutely stunning compared to its surroundings; brown, clunky, square structures that held no architectural or artistic value.

The engineer prided himself on it, practically in the way that it was his home, and physically in which it was an embodiment of everything he'd already done and was working on; transforming it into the Avengers tower hadn't diminished its standing in his eyes. Tony was proud of how far he had come, and if he had come so far with a group of people, then it was only fair to incorporate them.

The Avengers had come together months ago in Manhattan to fight a war. Now, only two days from when they had moved in together, they had collected for what Steve had deemed a 'construction party'.

The contrast was outrageous, and more than a little ridiculous.

The team had built and designed most of the renovations together, because Steve had deemed it a group exercise (Tony was positive the penny pincher had overheard him talking numbers with the contractors and had absolutely flipped shit before gathering the troops - Jarvis had turned his wide-eyed reaction into a gif, Tony watched it whenever he was feeling blue).

Never less, it had felt nice to get his hands dirty again. Tony had threw on his work clothes and tool belt a tad too eagerly before laying out floor plans in front of the team. Steve had taken this as his cue to delegate.

"Okay," Steve clapped his hands together, stance as relaxed as Tony had ever been witness to; he wore _stupid_ blue jeans that were fitted in all the right places, a flannel that looked as it could rip with a flex of an arm and rugged work boots. Tony was _so_ very dead. "Mr. Stark has been extremely kind to us," The blonde shot the genius a smile, grateful and passionate; Tony's stomach fluttered, and it took everything to avoid blushing - which, _wow_ , hadn't happened since, well, _forever_. The brunette could only nod once before tucking in on himself under the guise that whatever was on his phone (Flappy Bird - one of the most poorly made games, by the way) was of the utmost urgency.

"We're going to return the offer, in the form of constructing the interior of our newly acquired floors." Steve, the bastard, looked back towards Tony, who was leaning heavily against that wall, so much so that it looked as though he was trying to sink into it.

Which, _wasn't_ far from the truth at all, even if logically he was aware that his finely crafted walls would need a lot more than his meager weight to budge. Tony nearly had the audacity to curse the architecture of his home, and in the meantime managed to ignore whatever was spewing from Steve's ~~delicious~~ mouth.

Tony had flown the tiny yellow bird on his screen through sixty pipes before the room went uncomfortably silent. The bird fell enthusiastically to its presumed death while all eyes fell onto him.

Tony was less than enthusiastic, to say the least.

Steve gestured towards the scattered floor plans, and looked towards Tony expectantly (thinking back, the brunette was just thankful that Steve hadn't tried to be overly polite and _hand him_ the papers - that would've been embarrassing).

_Right_. He was the only engineer in the room, the only one keen on construction. Blue prints and floor plans were his portion of the exercise. Fuck teams. Fuck group presentations. He'd already gone to school, thank you very much, _teacher Steve_.

Tony stepped forwards, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. He bent down, ignoring the creak in his back as Steve and he switched places. Center stage, for the entire team to study. _Not_ Tony's favorite position. He was fond of corners, preferably in his lab, with a dangerous power tool that sparked, screeched or spit fire; the perfect shield, a blatant _stay the fuck away from me._

Now the only things he could hide behind were his baggy clothes and the trembling papers in his palm - which, had been the exact opposite of a shield, really.

Tony cleared his throat, crinkling the pieces of paper under shaky hands.

"Well," He laughed a bit, scowling down at the paper. "Not _all_ of us are hologram friendly, so I had Jarvis print out the floor plans we developed. First plan of action is Natasha's floor."

Steve nodded, painfully serious and chivalrous as always. "Ladies- or, in this case, _lady_ , first."

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully but didn't argue. Tony continued when Steve didn't do something preposterous like _bow;_ he went back to the paper, not meeting their eyes, they hadn't quite reached that level of intimacy.

"Right, um, her furniture came in, the movers placed everything against the east living room wall."

Tony uselessly gesticulated towards the large brown boxes lining the room they were in; everyone had eyes, he didn't know why he had to be so awkward. Steve saved him by speaking again, noticing how uncomfortable he had become and taking charge once more, the saint.

"I figured we could all split into teams of two and make our way through the floor." Steve looked around, pairing off people with two fingers. "Natasha and Clint, Bruce and Thor,"

Tony felt his breath hitch when Steve met his eyes and smiled; the brunette was caught in his gaze as Steve spoke: "I guess that just leaves you and I, Mr. Stark."

Arc reactor or no, nothing could keep Tony's heart going after _that_.

#

The instructions needed in order to build the furniture, per usual, were less than adequate. The company was nice, though, even if every word or look Steve sent Tony's way was deadly; the brunette must've been edging on self destruction for sticking around so long.

It had started with the ' _teams_ ' (Steve had gone from teacher to little league coach in point five) picking rooms. Steve had led Tony with a hand to the small of his back and a grin, the bastard. Tony had shakily agreed to work on the kitchen and living room. Natasha and Clint had taken the main bedroom and spare bedroom while Bruce and Thor had chosen the only remaining spaces; the dining room, storage (weapon _and_ clothing, to Natasha's glee) and bathrooms.

Steve insisted on moving all of the heavy stuff, lifting the specialty stove Natasha had obviously wanted (she hadn't said anything, but Tony had saw her eyes lit up when she spotted it window shopping - he may or may not had eavesdropped too, finding out that her grandma had had the exact stove, good memories, _blah_ ; either way, Tony couldn't _not_ get it). Tony took care of the brand new SI appliances, a state of the art fridge, dishwasher, sink, toaster, etc. He made sure everything was in working order, which, _of course_ would be the case; they'd been designed by him, no faults there - the manufacturing was what kept him up at night.

The current situation he'd just crafted for himself would probably do the same - he didn't see a restful night ahead.

It had all been very mundane and quiet in the beginning. Steve was doing most of the labor while Tony inspected everything. Clint had managed to connive Jarvis into playing _Radiohead_ albums, which, _wasn't_ the worst thing he could've decided upon; Tony was infinitely surprised by his taste. The music kept things less intolerable, added some background noise, which meant Tony didn't _have_ to speak; he'd _never_ had trouble rambling, but the team was a sensitive topic - it was safer to shut the fuck up and test the waters.

Speaking of testing the waters, _damn Steve_. He'd tried to keep a running conversation going, picking Tony's brain, small talk, meaningless conversation to anyone else; they had some in common, at least, in theory.

Tony could bathe in it if it hadn't been so nerve wracking.

Luckily, he'd been interrupted by the sound of Steve's stomach growling.

"Hey, J?" Tony was taking a break, perched upon the counter as Steve shimmied the dishwasher into place.

"Yes, sir?"

Steve jumped a bit as _High and Dry_ was replaced by Jarvis' accented voice. Tony imagined that the others did as well. His face twitched in something akin to glee.

"Would you order some food? I think Italian's safe, right?"

A couple affirmatives rang from the back of Natasha's home, Tony nodded, legs swinging against the counter. The brunette could feel Steve's stare, but ignored it for the sake of speaking and breathing properly.

"Great. J, give me, uh...Pepolino's. Order the basic family meals, multiply it by three. You know what I like."

"As you wish, sir."

Music floated back into the air. Steve took this as his moment to speak.

"You didn't have to do that, Mr. Stark-"

Tony itched at his head, hopping down from the counter and eying the box of dishes. "We're going to be living together, just call me Tony." The brunette straightened up from where he'd been bent over a box, meeting Steve's eyes for a second before looking away and swallowing; his throat felt pinched, heart heavy.

"And yeah, I uh, I think I did. You've got to eat, high metabolism and all. 'Sides, I'm feeling a bit hungry too, what with all of the _lifting_ I've been doing."

Steve snorted at that one, sending a tiny smile his way, eyes sparkling. "Well, we appreciate it, _Tony_. Everything you've done, we're grateful."

Tony just nodded, lifting the box of dishes with a grunt, placing it down on the counter top. He opened one of the cabinets that would be suitable enough to place cups in and started unpacking.

"Here, let me-"

Steve reached into the box (Tony made sure to avoid a cliché moment, making sure Steve's hand was out of the box before grabbing another mug - he wasn't ready to hold hands with Captain America, even if he definitely wouldn't mind it) and pulled out the more fragile glass, chest pressed against Tony's back as he placed it on the highest shelf. The touch was electric, so much so that Tony nearly dropped a mug on his own head.

Steve, the glorious fucker, caught it an inch above his forehead.

"Whoa, Mr. Star- _Tony_ , that was close." Steve looked at him worriedly. "Are you feeling okay? You look tired."

Steve's hands were on his shoulders, steadying him. Tony could only exhale, head spinning; he was tired, so very sleep deprived - the team had affected him more than he had expected them to, not that Steve needed to know (it wasn't like he had gone out while they were lounging on the very first day to buy luxury pillows, blankets and full-fledged mattresses just to keep them comfortable for one night; he also didn't stalk them on the CCTV, just to make sure that they were resting well; never mind the fact that he was terrified of being murdered in his sleep, because since when did Tony Stark have _people_ \- this was all very unnatural and Natasha hadn't exactly helped him out with his trust issues in the beginning anyway).

Jarvis' voice cut through the tension and his buzzing thoughts like a knife.

"Sir, the food has arrived. Would you like me to send it up?"

Steve shook his head, giant hands still wrapped around Tony, who seemed as fragile as the fine china in front of them comparatively, "I can grab Thor and we can go fetch it, no need to torture the delivery boy."

Tony nodded once, if only to get Steve out of the room. The captain rubbed his shoulder once, expression slightly pinched and weary. He grabbed a stool, nudged Tony down onto it. The brunette perched as gracefully as he could, Steve sent him a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure you'll feel better after some food." Steve murmured. The blonde cupped his hands around his own mouth, calling Thor's name. Within a minute, the blondes were walking into the lift and Tony was left to listen to the soothing melody that _Daydreaming_ provided.

He slumped over the counter, sliding off of the stool pitifully before grabbing the appropriate amount of dishes. He went to go set the table that Thor had to have assembled wrong (there was a stray leg left off to the side, which was surely a necessity), hoping that it would last a meal before he had to fix it.

Taking care of real, breathing humans was _hard_.

~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to drop your thoughts and ideas! Thanks again! Make sure to have a lovely day.


	3. The Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thanks mom."
> 
> Tony felt his breath stutter, but hid it appropriately with a cough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your support! Here's another one for you. 
> 
> Steve and Tony are now together, there's been a time jump, and this is the first time Tony is called mom. Lots of fun and exciting stuff! Let me know if you enjoy it, and if you'd like me to write any specific scenes; I figure I could keep the story going longer that way. For those of you who had already asked, most of your ideas/scenes are written and will be published soon! Thanks again.

~*~

It took him two months to realize.

_Correction_.

It took Clint two months to put a harmless yet _absurd_ nickname to Tony's actions; this is what caused what Tony would forever call, _The Awakening_.

Tony had, admittedly, been caught in a compromising position; hell, he'd been compromised since he'd practically adopted five _grown_ super humans.

He'd been packing lunches for the team when _the incident_ had occurred. They had a day full of conferences and mandatory testing ahead of them. It was regulatory for any entity that aligned themselves with SHIELD to go through generic physical, psychological and combat related trials; it was all to find the weaklings that weren't up to par.

What wasn't considered regulatory or necessary, _never less_ up to par, was the slop that they attempted to pass off as food; no matter the secrets or espionage, the ' _food'_ SHIELD served was the real crime.

Ergo, sack lunches.

Tony had woken up at six per Steve's meddling and newly acquired affinity towards Jarvis; the two of them were hell bent on keeping his sleeping and eating habits somewhat controlled, unfortunately. He had crawled to the communal floor in search of coffee, and Steve, wonderful, glorious teacher-turned-little-league-coach-turned- _boyfriend_ Steve, had already poured him a cup.

"Sit down, Tone, before you fall down." Steve had murmured gently, plopping Tony into the dining room seat next to his own; the rest of the team had already gathered, waiting patiently for breakfast to finish.

Tony could handle the captain now. They were best friends, _boyfriends_ , which was so extraordinarily _incredible_.

Tony had breathed in the steam rolling from his coffee - also incredible.

"Two creams, four sugars." Steve added, making his way back into the kitchen, but not without ruffling Tony's locks and kissing his cheek. Clint made a face before sighing, heavy and drawn out.

"What the fuck's dad doing? We haven't even eaten yet and I've lost my appetite."

Tony's brain might've attempted to connect the dots had he not been so invested in his coffee. Maybe even figure out who the 'mom' was to Steve's dad title; a title that had originated in a SHIELD barrack, according to Clint.

It just hadn't crossed his mind, because Tony Stark would never be maternal material. If anything the mom title had probably been awarded to Bruce or Thor even, never _him_.

Tony hadn't even _thought_ to deem it his problem and had simply tucked his nose further into his coffee; like an oblivious man with his head in the sand - _scratch that_ , Tony didn't do sand. Or deserts. Or caves, for that matter.

Either way, he was ignorant. Regrettably so, because maybe, _just maybe_ , if he'd stifled the nicknames earlier, he wouldn't have been a victim.

_This_ was the beginning of the end.

#

Packed lunches were delightful.

Tony remembered Jarvis, _OG_ Jarvis, as the brunette liked to refer to him since the creation of AI Jarvis, packing him food in decorative tin boxes. It had been the highlight of his childhood every time he had gone to open the little notes Jarvis would write out to him on napkins. The food inside had been just as swell. Everyone deserved to hold the experience near to their heart as far as Tony was concerned.

This is what possessed Tony to craft PB&J lunches for the entire team a half an hour before they were due at SHIELD; no note writing, Tony doubted that they'd even be able to read his chicken scratch.

Everybody was running around, digging for their gear and workout clothes. Tony had far less prep time considering he wasn't participating in half of the activities; diminished lung capacity and a magnet in his chest gave him that right. He'd still show off in the suit during team combat, but that would hardly take up an hour, considering it was a machine and machines were reliable - far more reliable than the most conditioned human. Tony didn't have to diet or eat protein by the bucket to keep in shape.

_But_ , some of the team did in fact have a pretty bland diet to counteract cheat days. This is where the PB&Js and fruit had been brought in.

Tony had just finished up when the remaining team had filtered in. He had written their initials in ink on the bags, designated to those of which preferred apples over oranges (Bruce, Steve and Natasha), juice over water (Clint, Thor and Tony) or wheat over white (Steve, Bruce and Clint). It hadn't been that big of a deal, so much so that Tony hadn't even noticed the group staring wearily at his lunches until he had turned around to hand them out; the petite brunette stopped abruptly, cocking a brow, lithe fingers clutched around brown paper.

"Who died?"

Natasha had shaken her head noncommittally, hair pulled up into a tight red bun; her face read what-are-you-talking-about-everything-is-fine-and-even-if-it-wasn't-you-would-never-be-privvy.

Either way, Tony called bullshit. It took a lot to get the team to react like that, nonetheless, the brunette couldn't _take back_ the lunches. He felt his breath quicken, acting as if nothing was wrong; he could play Natasha's game, he could be a super sneaky spy.

"Great," Tony started designating the lunches to their owners. "Wheat for you, mango juice instead of orange, an apple for you, light on the jam, and just peanut butter for you, you fucking psychopath."

Tony brushed off his hands, looking over the group who now seemed a little overzealous; considering they were heading to SHIELD in less than ten minutes, they _should_ be looking like death was knocking.

Clint patted him on the head, smile wide and joyful.

"Thanks mom."

Tony felt his breath stutter, but hid it appropriately with a cough.

Steve bent down to grab Tony's suit carrying case, pecking him on the cheek as he stood up. "Yes, thank you Tone."

The brunette could only nod, letting himself be herded into the lift as the group migrated towards the exit, their specialty lunches lightening their moods; Natasha still looked suspiciously blank, holding the back with both hands, as if it was precious or something.

Tony didn't know what to think about _that_.

Next year he wouldn't have to attend the SHIELD assessment tests, because he would definitely stop existing the next time Clint looked at him like _he_ was great and important and called him _mom;_ never mind Natasha's odd reaction, as if his crumby lunch had been _all_ she could ever want or need.

Tony didn't know what to think about _any of it at all._

~*~

 

 


	4. Bucky Barnes Was Raised In A Barn?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was sure that if Jarvis had the ability to cackle, he'd be doing so.
> 
> AKA; Bucky Barnes breaks into the lab. Tony's already established nickname gets updated with a Brooklyn twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates may slow for a bit, at least until next week (Mon/Tues). I am Busy, with a capital B. Anyway, let me know how you liked this one! Bucky makes an appearance! Comment below to give inspiration and/or threaten me (nicely) to update sooner. Thanks for all of the support!

~*~

"Why do they call ya that?"

Tony jumped, nearly dropping his welding tool, helmet shifting haphazardly on his face, blinding him effectively; he didn't even need an intruder to incapacitate him, he could do that alone - a self destructive machine. The brunette peeled off his gloves when reality set it, but not before turning off his brazing torch (he had _some_ common sense).

Barnes lived in his tower now. Right, boyfriend's best friend; "blood brothers" whatever that meant.

It had been a week, Bucky was alive and as well as possible. He still sounded like a robot, moved like one too - which _was_ off setting, and Tony _liked_ robots, hell, he _created_ them - but the man was trying to express himself, to be human again. He would never be _not_ super though, which came with an entirely new set of challenges.

Barnes stealth explained his presence.

The entire _unauthorized-but-obviously-authorized_ portion of his entrance was still wreaking havoc on Tony's brain as he stripped out of his helmet. The fresh air around him felt cold and unnatural, it made his skin feel too tight on his face. The lights around him seemed so much brighter than usual, and his eyes took a moment to adjust - he'd been in the lab for too long. The chilly air nipped at his clammy skin - he was still a bit shaken up about Bucky's intrusion.

To add to the ante, Bucky's face was even colder than the atmosphere around them.

" _Why_ do they call me _what_ , Barnes?" Tony asked, pulse regulating only slightly. The petite man furrowed his brow, hands flying. "How the hell did you even get in here? Jarvis, _what the fuck?"_

Bucky crossed his arms from where he sat, perched elegantly on a stool. He pursed his lips, as if he was wording his thoughts before speaking - a skill Tony could appreciate but never succumb to.

"I memorized Stevie's access code."

Tony gawked, _"Jarvis!?"_

A hologram appeared in between the two men, dividing them with blue light and artificially typed words:

'Sir, if you would be ever so kind to unmute me.'

"Right, sorry, J, I forgot. _Un_ mute. _Fuck_ , just override my orders next time somebody _breaks_ _intomylab_."

"I didn't break into here, fella. The little box thingy outside the door said 'access granted'. It _even_ turned green. All I did was type in the right numbers."

Bucky looked far too confident, a look of justifiability planted on his face; Tony was just happy to see some emotion, he'd be even more enthusiastic if the man had been in the _common grounds_ where he belonged.

"And I guess green meant _go_ back in the twenties too, RoboCop." Tony muttered to himself, remembering only after the fact that Bucky was a super soldier too and could probably hear his pulse from across the room. He ran a hand down his face. "Right, right, I get that _Barnes_ , I really do, but it's _Steve's_ access code. I highly doubt your last name is reminiscent of your childhood home, so just, don't do that. _Ever_." The genius looked at the ceiling with contempt, heart still beating wildly in his chest. "And _you_ were watching him, you know he's not Steve, J, I swear, it's community college for yo-"

"Sir, if I may?"

Tony waved him ahead, looking severely disappointed with everyone.

"I was, in fact, monitoring Mr. Barnes ministrations the entire time. However, I did not feel the need to override specific orders because he did not take any action towards harming you, sir. In the case that Mr. Barnes, or anyone, for that matter, did take an interest in harming you, sir, I would follow the proper termination protocol."

Tony nodded, rubbing at his chin; he was reminded of how both he and Steve _had_ directed Jarvis not to interact with Bucky as he integrated back into the future - because a live in AI was not exactly average, even in the twenty first century. "Yeah, _yeah_ , thanks J." The genius turned his attention to Barnes, who was twirling a socket wrench in his hand with the grace of a dancer. "Now that Jarvis' Skynet spiel is over, _why_ did you break - or, should I say, _grant yourself access_ into here?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, placing the wrench down in favor of a flathead. "Tools don't really change huh?"

Tony shook his head, not at all baffled by the change in conversation; he was known to jump to completely irrelevant topics. "No, the fundamentals in non-electric tools will probably always stay the same. Upgrades in grip and handy dandy add ons are probably as far as it'll go, especially when it comes to screw drivers."

Bucky nodded, and for once, Tony found himself content to stay silent in order to let the man work out what exactly he had ~~broken in~~ visited for in the first place.

"Clint? That's the bird brain's name?"

Tony grinned. They were reaching some common ground, tools and calling Clint names? In one conversation?

Tony was switching out super soldiers. RoboCop for the win.

"Yes, ' _Clint Barton'_ , you sly dog."

Bucky looked at him a bit oddly, looking as though he found humor in Tony's quirkiness, but didn't mention it; the genius noted that his lip twitched upwards, a smile, _Tony_ got a smile out of Bucky and he wasn't Steve. "Right, I was going to ask ya. About what he calls ya? What the other ones even call ya sometimes?"

Tony felt his face heat up. _This_ was really what Bucky had threatened his entire livelihood over? A damned nickname, an _unoriginal_ one at that.

"Right, _um_ , the 'mom' thing?"

"Yeah, _right_ , 'ma'?"

Bucky's Brooklyn accent had inadvertently given Tony a slightly new nickname, but Tony was too embarrassed to say anything. The 'mom' thing was a _team thing_. Bucky hadn't been a part of the team until a week ago, and even then, Tony barely knew him.

The man was old as hell, out of touch, but had definitely picked up a tool or two in his time. That was about it, other than the general facts he could read about in SHIELD's sparse file.

Oh, and the fact that he felt comfortable abusing his living quarters to gain access to information that could potentially put Tony's _life_ at _risk_.

" _Right_." Tony squeaked out, fiddling with a pen on his desk to keep himself busy. He was barely comfortable with the team calling him that, never mind someone he had just met a week ago.

"Well, what should _I_ call ya? I'm, I'm just a little confused, 's all. Steve calls ya Tone, or Tony, but your his fella, and then there's the 'ma' thing-"

Tony sighed; Steve would kill him if he made Bucky feel even more secluded.

"Yeah, uh, mom, is fine. Great. Just fine and dandy."

Bucky's smile was genuine as he stood from the stool, placing the tools back in their places gingerly; the genius was interested in that, maybe he'd have to _invite_ Barnes down to mess around with some oldies. The super soldier patted Tony's shoulder on the way out, looking far more relaxed.

"Alrighty, _ma_ , I guess I'll be goin'."

The room fell silent, lab doors whooshing shut, fresher air drifting in with the current; Tony's gaze fell onto the tools Bucky had been gripping moments before, practically catatonic.

Tony was sure that if Jarvis had the ability to cackle, he'd be doing so.

~*~

 


	5. Panic & Despair Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony could only feel his insides as the outside world fell into a blur; his heart was beating as fast as ever, his blood pressure was high enough to make his eyes throb, his skin was hot and sweaty, but he felt as if hewasfreezing.
> 
> Bruce's birthday was supposed to be perfect and stress free. Natasha had reserved an entire spa for them, manicures and pedicures and massages and facials. The epitome of relaxation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really long chapter, so I split it into two parts. Thank you for waiting patiently. Here is the update, late on a Monday evening. Chapter starts off rough (foreshadowing) and then chills out. Part two will include mentions/descriptions of panic attacks and PTSD (THAT'S A WARNING). I would hate to trigger anyone, so read at your own risk. I appreciate all of the continued support. Thanks again!
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to mention that I've taken liberties with the timeline, a warning for any sticklers out there.

~*~

Tony could only feel his insides as the outside world fell into a blur; his heart was beating as fast as ever, his blood pressure was high enough to make his eyes throb, his skin was hot and sweaty, but he felt as if _hewasfreezing_.

Bruce's birthday was _supposed_ to be perfect and stress free. Natasha had reserved an entire spa for them, manicures and pedicures and massages and facials. The epitome of relaxation.

It wasn't Natasha's fault that Tony didn't find any of it pleasing, either. She was a great girlfriend to Bruce, who had abandoned the thought of Betty months ago. Natasha was authentic and steady, and Tony was proud of them. She knew Bruce as well as Tony did, so the spa was, in theory, a perfect place to hold a little get together.

Tony had gotten Happy to rent the largest SUV he could find. The team (including Bucky, who was now an honorary member, Agent _Agent_ , and even Agent Hill) had packed into it comfortably enough; they looked like a church group, which totally cramped Tony's style, but that was _okay_ \- anything for Bruce. Happy had driven them, Natasha copiloting easily enough.

Tony had been squished between Bucky and Steve in the very next row of seats; that way he could fuck with the radio, even if Happy had swatted him away to play _smooth jazz_ (Bruce had been happy with it, so Tony had shut his mouth and kept his hands to himself). Bucky and Steve had pointed around, sharing stories about their childhood, when they'd trek past Hoboken on their bikes. It made Tony feel so unbelievably young and inexperienced, which was something that didn't happen often.

Thor, Bruce and Clint had squeezed into the next row, both agents taking up the rear behind them. Tony would forever be shocked at how nice family felt, especially when they were all so close and safe. Not that he had said anything, of course.

Close and safe were always temporary, people left, danger followed. In their line of work it was hard to even have family, never less be so close as often as they were. Tony felt incredibly thankful and fortunate in that moment, no matter how many times he'd piss and moan about the radio or the van.

"We're here. There's staff, but other than that, the place is empty." Natasha murmured out, smiling towards Bruce, who nodded thankfully. The man was still a little iffy on how much of a fuss they were making about his birthday, but he had played along, not even a fraction as embarrassed as he would've been in the beginning; besides, Tony had bought adult sized inflatables for Clint's birthday months ago, along with building him an entire floor of shelves and perches. In comparison, the team had stayed mellow, per Bruce's request of course (never less, Tony had built an entire spa-chi-zen-anything-and-everything-else-that-could-instill-relaxation room; after this little outing, he'd reveal it to the man).

Tony clapped, grin wide as he unbuckled (Steve, the soccer mom, wouldn't let Happy put the keys in the ignition until everyone had put on seat belts) himself and stood (he was nearly short enough to straighten, but he couldn't quite). Bucky jumped out first, holding out a hand for Tony to take and allowing him to step down.

"Watch your step ma." Bucky murmured, forehead creased. Steve smiled at Bucky, a thanks of sorts; the moment Steve had told Bucky that he was 'courting' Tony, Bucky had been overly protective of him.

"Thanks Buck." Tony muttered, frowning, "But what've I told you about treating me like I'm in my forties?"

Bruce shook his head as he stepped out of the van, "You _are_ in your forties, Tony. Are you having a sympathetic mid life crisis? I thought that was my job, being that _I'm_ fifty today." The scientist patted Tony's shoulder, looking down at him a bit, grin wide and relaxed.

Tony shook his head, running his hands through his hair. "Definitely not having any type of mid life crisis, how absurd. Only old people have those."

The genius wrapped his arms around Bruce, holding him tight and sniffling. "God, you were just like, forty nine yesterday. They grow up so fast."

Phil was the last out of the van, counting heads with slanted eyes. "Where's Stark?"

"Down here, Agent _Agent_." Tony squeezed Bruce a bit, the other man groaned playfully.

Natasha shook her head, amusement on her face, "Come on, boys. Tony, stop trying to steal my boyfriend."

" _Yeah_ , mom." Clint piped up from next to Thor, who muttered something about respecting elders, especially mothers.

"I had him first." Tony grumbled out, straightening himself and smoothing out Bruce's lavender shirt from where he'd crinkled it. "But, I guess this hunk'll do." The petite brunette got on his tippy toes to kiss Steve, who had been watching with mirth.

The captain grabbed onto Tony's smaller hand with a smile, gesticulating towards the building with a cocked brow. Tony chuckled, nudging Bruce ahead with his free hand.

"Lead the way birthday boy."

~*~

 


	6. Panic & Despair Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt as if he was floating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a mash up of requests, so I hope to please most of you! 
> 
> I have other chapters written after this, BUT, I'd like to make it clear that this is the end of the story. Any other chapters posted will be considered bonus chapters, even if they fit into the story. Thank you for coming on this journey with me! Updates will be sporadic because I'm always busy, but I will try my hardest! I'm still taking prompts and ideas that'll fit into the story below, and I'm working on writing the ones that have already been prompted. Thanks again!
> 
> WARNING: PANIC ATTACKS, PTSD, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, ETC.

~*~

Tony could've never expected what was waiting for him inside, but he didn't exactly picture himself having a panic attack over a damned _sauna_ , of all things.

The spa was nice, overall. Natasha had done well. The workers were privy to their status (who the hell else bought out an entire spa?), yet acted no differently than they would with anyone else. Fountains and plants lined the walls, drop lights were set on dim to create a glow-like effect. It was comfortably warm inside, zen music flowing from speakers hidden in flower pots.

The place was an epitome of tranquility and comfort; Tony was glad that Bruce's smile never left his face the minute they walked in, because his newly adapted floor was practically a replica.

Thor, who had wandered off, poked his head from a tiny room in the corner, "Fellow Avengers, this is quite a large area for relaxation. I believe we will all fit comfortably. Would you like to join me?"

The blonde started stripping, thankfully grabbing a complimentary robe (said robe was far too small, by the way - the end of it barely reaching his mid thigh - Tony was scared to look down in fear of being flashed) before turning to face them. His smile was wide, hair tied back into a pony tail.

Steve laughed, hand on the small of Tony's back. "Why not? Eh?"

Phil and Maria looked at each other and made a face (Tony would later find out that getting naked with the people you were technically in charge of was against SHIELD code - not that he wanted to see _Agent Agent_ nude), "You guys go ahead, we're going to look around."

Tony nodded once as they walked out (probably to scout the area, fucking dorks), looking down and swallowing, "Yeah, um _totally_ , why not? Sauna's cool."

He could handle a little steam, it was for Bruce after all; maybe it'd even help his breathing a bit. Positive thoughts, right? He wasn't cynical anymore, _no way_.

"Mom and dad approved, lets go!" Clint raced to the robe rack, wasting no time in stripping; nudity was never an issue with the team, really.

Bruce shook his head, smile wide. He took off his glasses, laying them on a table outside of the sauna before pulling off his clothes. Natasha followed him, leaving her watch next to his glasses.

Bucky looked at him expectantly, cocking a brow. Tony had cut his hair, so he could actually see the other man's eyes now. They were soft, staring right at Tony's chest questioningly.

"Hey," Tony started, looking up towards the super soldier. "I'll be okay, water proof, just like your new arm."

The two had extra hardware, which was a bit more maintenance; it was Stark reliable, though. Bucky nodded once, moving forward, stripping on his way to the robes. Bruce looked over towards Tony, who was frozen in his spot.

"You coming, Tony?"

The petite man broke his trance, smiling wide to hide his anxiety; heat was never something he was good at handling, especially since Afghanistan. Steam and rising temperatures tended to remind him of the cramped cave and Yinsen; sweaty and stiff, _more_ than uncomfortable.

"Totally great, Brucie. Birthday boy in his birthday suit, aye?" Tony smacked Bruce's naked ass on the way over to the robe rack, the other man chuckling. Natasha rolled her eyes, tucking a robe around herself.

"If I had a birthday for every time I've been naked around you guys, I'd be catching up to Thor."

Tony nodded, tilting his head as he shucked off his shoes. "I concur." He stripped out of the rest of his clothes, turning so that his chest would be hidden. Tony wrapped a robe around himself before removing his watch. Bucky was holding the sauna door open expectantly, waiting for Tony, who was the only one outside still.

The smaller man patted Bucky's chest twice in thanks as he forced himself to walk into the humid room.

The door shut, air whooshing, feeling more threatening than it should've been.

Tony made his way towards Steve, who was on the end of a wooden bench. Natasha was on the other end, fiddling with the heat and steam controls. The brunette took a seat on Steve's lap per the man's request (the blonde patted his thigh with a sultry grin, the dirty bastard). Tony didn't deny him, anything to get his mind off of the heat. Bucky took a seat next to them, robe dangerously loose.

"There we go," Natasha murmured, raising a brow. "How long do we want to stay in for? Fifteen?"

"Sounds great, babe." Bruce muttered, settling back, looking far too comfortable. Then again, Tony noticed, the entire team seemed quite serene, eyes closed, breaths long and even.

He could barely keep himself from shaking as the room got hotter and hotter.

"So Brucie, how're you liking your birthday so far? I mean I know that you like-"

"Tony? It's great, I'm great, really. This is better than anything I could've imagined. I mean that." Bruce sighed, slight smile on his face. "Lets just relax, yeah?"

"Of, of course." Tony could take a hint; he was only trying to talk to keep his mind off of everything. Steve was so warm underneath and behind him, meanwhile the steam in the air was practically suffocating.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. Tony started trembling.

"Tone? Are you...shivering?"

Tony felt his blood run cold. He could only feel his insides as the outside world fell into a blur; his heart was beating as fast as ever, his blood pressure was high enough to make his eyes throb, his skin was hot and sweaty, but he felt as if he was freezing and burning at _thesametime._

Every member of the team looked at him, worry and curiosity playing on their expressions.

"Tony? Sweetie?" Steve attempted to turn him in his lap, but Tony was having none of it.

He was hyperventilating, and he needed to _get out_ of this hot ass closet.

Yinsen, surgery, caves, sand, the fucking desert. _Afghanistan_.

The supposedly simple sauna was so much more than that.

Tony lunged off of Steve, skidding to the door and pulling it open with his remaining energy; he heard a frantic 'ma?' before the door closed, recognizing it as Bucky's voice.

Nonetheless, he ran away, further into the bowels of the spa, letting the air around him ease his panic. Tony felt his breath coming back, the colder air cutting through his air passage, the complete opposite of that damned sauna.

Tony found a mat in the back and collapsed onto it, sitting against the wall and pulling his knees to his chest. He held onto himself, breathing carefully, heart easing into a slower beat.

He heard footsteps, an entire stampede of them; if he hadn't just had a panic attack, he would've joked that it must've been dinner time.

Except he'd just had a panic attack in front of the team, who _hadn't_ even known before _this_ that he had panic attacks. It had been years since Afghanistan, but that kind of thing doesn't just leave you. The brain docs had muttered things like PTSD and everlasting trauma.

Whatever.

"Tony?" That was Natasha's gentle voice, probably the most level headed and calm out of all of them at the moment. Tony cursed himself; he hoped he hadn't stressed Bruce out, for fucks sake couldn't he do anything right?

He yanked at his hair with his hands, a form of self punishment and to steady himself. Why couldn't he handle fifteen minutes? Why was he so _weak_?

"He's in here." Clint murmured from the threshold, eying him nervously, a sympathetic look on his face. Tony listened as the rest of the team filed in, the sounds of a nearby fountain colliding with their heavy footfalls. The genius kept his head in his knees, jumping slightly when Steve's hand touched his shoulder.

"S-sorry, _shit_." Tony stuttered out, tremors wracking his body as they always did after an adrenaline rush. Steve looked at him kindly.

" _Not_ your fault, Tone. What happened back there?"

"It _is_ my fault, Steve, it's Brucie's fucking _fiftieth_ and it was _supposed_ to be chill and relaxed and everything but this-"

"When did they start?" Bruce cut in, sitting cross legged in front of him; Tony couldn't even meet his eyes.

"You know when." Tony whispered into his leg, voice unsteady.

"Huh, mom?" Clint said intelligently, looking worried as he squatted to the left of Tony.

Tony lifted his head, eyes darting away from their gazes. He could feel Natasha's presence right above him, standing with her hands on her hips, understanding radiating off of her. "Bruce, he uh, kno-knows when. I told him about, well, some of it."

"Afghanistan?" Bruce asked softly, brow creased; his eyes went a little green at the mention. Tony could only bring himself to nod. "You've been having panic attacks _since Afghanistan_ and you haven't told _any_ of us?"

The genius shrugged, sighing heavily. "'M sorry."

"Don't-" Bruce huffed, nearly laughing at the absurdity of it all. "Don't apologize, god, Tony. I just wish you would've told me it was this bad, _would've told anyone_."

"Jarvis knows. I told Jarvis."

" _Mom_ , what the fuck-"

" _Clinton_ ," Thor grumbled out, "do not raise your voice around our fallen shield brother. This is not the time."

"Right," Clint whispered, "Sorry, mom. But like, _what the fuck._ You should've said something, really. We could've had a fucked up group therapy way earlier, talk about shit, _together_ , you know? Bruce could've made those fancy little sandwiches, and I could mix drinks, non-alcoholic of course, don't want you sliding off _that_ slope mom - _TMZ_ would be all over us, uh, but you get the point, right?"

Tony didn't react, melting into Steve's hand instead. He grunted, shrugging once again.

Bucky licked his lips.

"Why, uh, why don't we do that now? Ya know, talk 'bout stuff." Bucky paused, looking down at Tony, who met his eyes, surprisingly enough. "Whaddya say ma? We don't have sandwiches or drinks but-"

Tony knew this was a lot for Bucky, to speak without being asked, to think his own thoughts. To take initiative of his own life and decisions. If Tony didn't react well, then he might mess up more than a single birthday party; he could feel the team boring holes into him, waiting for him to respond, to do anything.

The genius looked up into his eyes, lips twitching a bit.

"Th-that sounds great, Buck. Great idea, _really_ , it'd be nice to get something's off my chest."

Bucky beamed, smile hesitant but very real. He plopped gracefully onto the floor, looking at Thor and Natasha, who were still standing.

"Sit?" Tony asked softly, adjusting his robe over himself. Natasha and Thor complied easily.

"I'll uh, go first, mom." Clint murmured, looking less confident than he'd been a moment before. Tony nodded once, feeling choked, eyes a little wet; family, this was what family felt like.

"So, like, when Loki was here, as you know, he took control of my mind, kind of like what Bucky went through." The super soldier nodded understandingly, looking angry at the thought of mind control - especially when it came to a teammate.

"Anyway, it fucked me up, real bad. No amount of SHIELD shrinks will ever be able to fix that, the intrusion, the way I was played like a puppet; and, and that's _okay_. I've come to accept that I might wake up in the middle of the night, dreaming about killing the good guys or being under Loki's control again, the bastard...No offense, Big Guy."

The blonde god simply nodded, sympathy and guilt on his face. Clint clapped, jolting the somber room. He looked extremely uncomfortable, eyes a little too absent. He cleared his throat, rubbing at his flush face.

"Well, uh, that's my piece. Anyone care to add?"

Bucky looked expectantly at Tony, who flushed.

"Uh, well. Back when SI sold weapons, I'd go to war zones to demonstrate, for the soldiers and stuff. On this particular day, I was in a Humvee with a few other soldiers. It was normal...we spoke and took pictures and the next minute there was an explosion." Tony cleared his throat, Steve's hand steadying him. The team was quiet as he retold his story, visibly shaken.

"Some of the soldiers went to go fight back. One of them was ordered to stay behind with me; Jimmy, his name was Jimmy...But after everybody else had fallen, he had decided to get out of the Humvee. He told me to 'stay here', _here_ being the then abandoned Humvee."

Tony sucked in a breath. He hadn't told anyone what had happened exactly. He had never given so many details. His heart felt like it was going to explode.

"Jimmy, he, um, didn't make it, didn't leave me a gun either. So I decided to leave the vehicle; had to really...Next thing I know, I'm laying on my back, next to one of my, my own weapons." Tony's laugh wryly, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. " _Boom_ , I was in the cave, with uh, Yinsen, the guy who saved me. Car battery hooked to my chest. Real fashion statement."

Clint snorted, despite the somber tone in the room. " _Damn_ , mom."

"Yeah, not my best look, definitely considered _Avant-garde_ , but eventually I 'agreed' to make the weapons that they wanted, built the Mark I inside of the cave, and...escaped."

Silence resounded in the room, the sound of trickling water echoing throughout the spa. Bucky cleared his throat, voice gruff.

"I'm glad that you made it back, ma."

Tony smiled a bit, eyes glassy. He nodded towards the super soldier, winking at him.

"Same here, Tone. Thank you for sharing...and opening up." Steve bent down to kiss his boyfriend, clutching Tony's smaller, bonier hand, running his fingers over the scars there.

"Yeah, well." Tony stood, hand still intertwined with Steve's. "That's the end of my pity party."

Bruce stretched his arms, looking around, smile more genuine than it had been all day, "Anyone up for 'fancy little sandwiches' and non-alcoholic drinks?"

Tony could only feel his insides as the outside world fell into a blur; his heart was beating as fast as ever, his blood pressure was high enough to make his eyes throb, his skin was hot and sweaty, but he felt as if _hewasfreezing_.

 _Correction_.

Tony could only feel his surroundings as his inner struggles fell into a blur; his heart was beating steady and warm, tingling with adoration for the group of misfits in front of him. His skin was comfortably warm, Steve's hand wrapped perfectly around his.

The family around him fell into place in that moment, he knew where he belonged, where he was safe.

Bucky's flesh fingers curled around his elbow, gentle as ever. The super soldier's eyes were softer than ever, and it made something uncurl in Tony's chest.

"Come on, ma. Lets get you to the car. I gotcha."

He felt as if he was floating.

~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to subscribe to the series for more Tony stories! Check out my other works if you liked this one! Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to drop a few words! Thanks again!


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